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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624239">cafuné</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveril/pseuds/primaveril'>primaveril</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>NCT (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Comfort, Fluff, Insomnia, M/M, it really is just that...!, overuse of words, tea brewing as a love language</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:49:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,868</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23624239</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/primaveril/pseuds/primaveril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>cafuné (noun, portuguese):<br/>to gently caress someone’s scalp, specially with the tips of your fingers; an act of tenderness, of gentleness, usually reserved to people you like very much.<br/>or,<br/>taeyong is tired, johnny is caring.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Lee Taeyong/Suh Youngho | Johnny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>120</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cafuné</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>hello!<br/>first and foremost i’d like to disclaim that i’m not a tyongf or a johfam, so i’m very very sorry if this ends up being slightly ooc &gt;&lt; i tried my best, but i’m sure it ended up just being a soft mess<br/>i really needed to write something that wasn’t markhyuck sjdjhdsd<br/>hope you enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Taeyong was tired. Utterly, completely, entirely exhausted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every inch of his body ached, eyes throbbing with the need to close and doze off, knees struggling to keep him upright. He gathered all the strength left in him to carry on recording, diligently doing whatever the producer asked him to, feet tapping along to the beat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was well past midnight, and he’d already practiced the latest choreography with the boys and got food delivered to their dorms ― no one would want to cook in their condition, sweaty and jelly-limbed from dancing ―, so he’d only have to finish this before climbing into bed and only waking up twelve hours later.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Easy. He could get through this, alright. He’d done worse when he was a trainee.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Except, Taeyong had developed a new problem to deal with: insomnia.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It began small, a few nights where falling asleep was a little harder, a little annoying, taking precious minutes of sleep off his hectic routine. He’d toss and turn, comfortable under his favorite covers, and end up waking cranky and with dark circles under his eyes. A few more days, and Taeyong found himself wide awake at 3am, sighing as his own body betrayed him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Doyoung tried making him tea whenever he could, the smell always comforting, but it didn’t help much. Donghyuck offered to lend him games to play until his eyes got too tired to stay open, but it only made him impossibly good at MMORPGs and obsessed with Animal Crossing. Even their manager tried to pressure Taeyong into buying melatonin pills, but he was scared of getting addicted to them and not being able to fully fall asleep without their help. It was a stupid thought, but still; self-medicating was never a good idea, and he stood by that.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong could only hope that, this time, he’d be able to sleep peacefully.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The dorms were quiet, only a small whisper of soft-voiced conversations coming from beneath the doors. Outside, the bustle of Seoul was muffled by the thick walls, a hushed lullaby that amplified Taeyong’s exhaustion by 20%. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The leader dragged his spent body to the kitchen, blankly staring at the kettle on the kitchen counter, as if waiting for it to turn on by itself. Was it worth it, brewing tea and taking a warm shower? Would it help him fall asleep tonight? Did he have enough willpower to wait for it to brew and still shower? He was sticky with dried sweat, his hair was glued to his scalp with oil, but showering would already take so long, was tea really worth the trouble? A glass of hot milk would be just as good, really. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey,” a big, warm hand found Taeyong’s lower back, ripping him out of his trance with a jolt. Johnny giggled, placing the softest kiss on top of the smaller’s head. “Do you need help? You seem tired.”</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Tired</span>
  </em>
  <span> wouldn’t be the most accurate word (</span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span> would be more fitting, truly), but the younger only nodded, rubbing at his droopy eyelids. “I want tea, but I also want to shower. Should I make tea? I don’t even know. I think I’m going insane.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Again, the softest giggle, and Johnny pulled Taeyong into his chest, one arm circling the smaller’s whole waist, a hug that smelled of soap and aftershave and slightly like coffee, dark and bittersweet. Taeyong’s joints turned into gelatin almost immediately, cheeks tinting pink. He had to physically refrain himself from laughing, out of pure embarrassment. It always surprised him, how easily Johnny melted his whole body, made him blossom peach-pink and stoked a fire, golden and low, in Taeyong’s heart.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Take a warm shower, Yong. I’ll make you tea,” he let go of the younger and reached out for the cupboards above the counter, long arms easily fetching a mug and the teabags. His eyes were tiny slits when he looked back at the leader, and in that instant Taeyong knew he had been waiting for him, sleepy and worn-out from their routine. His heart hurt, but he was so glad he could cry, in the middle of their kitchen, disheveled and sleep-deprived. “Do you want lavender or chamomile?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong shook his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Surprise me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny smiled, dimple and all, teeth gleaming under the bright lights, making the younger’s heart skip at least five beats. He went back to the kettle, shoulders wide and back muscles pulling and pushing, battered hoodie hiding very little from view, and Taeyong stayed rooted where he was for a few seconds, just watching, staring, chewing on his bottom lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under the hot water, he let his thoughts wander, bubbling and turning into vapor, clinging to his skull like the water droplets on the shower walls. Nothing really made sense, considering he wasn’t in the best condition to form coherent sentences, but it still felt nice, to think freely without having to say anything, just him and his own reflection on the damp white tiles, air thick with condensation. Of course, the main focus of his daydreaming was no one else but Suh Youngho.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny was a solid rock for him, one he could grab and pull himself up with when the tide was too high and close to drowning him. He was always there, quiet and gentle, watchful eyes and too-many-teeth smiles that coated the bottom of Taeyong’s belly with something thick and sticky, honey-sweet and tingly, all quick, light jokes and smelling of clean sheets and rich, deep cologne.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one ever lowered Taeyong’s walls so easily, in fact no one ever</span>
  <em>
    <span> wanted</span>
  </em>
  <span> to; the leader was the responsible figure, polite and strikingly beautiful, people treated him like he could bite. In reality, Taeyong just wanted a warm lap and the sense of security. He wasn’t always fierce, wasn’t always serious, wasn’t always the stage persona the company had built for him ― Taeyong was a twenty-four year old man with a big heart and a demanding job. He only needed someone to be there for him, to hug him in colder winter nights and give him popsicle-tacky kisses during summertime. He needed someone that understood him, inside and out, and cared for him when he was done caring for everyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny fit in easily, silently, like the Universe had molded him exactly the perfect size. A puzzle piece.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Taeyong sighed, shoulders heavy, turning off the water. The silence echoed around him, tugged at his heart. He loved him so much. So fiercely, so naturally.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bundled in a cotton tee and a pair of old sweatpants, the Lee made his way back to the kitchen, catching a glimpse of the living room TV, casting a bluish glow on the sofa and its surroundings. He still felt weary, still felt a dull thrum on the back of his head where his brain begged him for sleep, but he knew Johnny was up, waiting for him to drink his tea. The cup warmed up his hands.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The older looked up from the TV when Taeyong appeared next to the couch, drowsy and hugging a comforter that looked suspiciously like the leader’s favorite. His long, long legs were all tangled, (</span>
  <em>
    <span>criss-cross apple sauce</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he remembers Johnny telling him, smiling when Taeyong parroted it), and he opened his arms for a hug when the younger moved to sit next to him. He didn’t know if it was the exhaustion, the blurriness of his thoughts, or the comfort of having a warm body to hold and a cup of tea in hand, but as he sat right in the middle of Johnny’s legs, it felt so </span>
  <em>
    <span>right</span>
  </em>
  <span>. It was easy to make Taeyong awkward or uncomfortable, but when Johnny’s arms circled him and brought his head to his strong chest, it just felt cozy, intimate, </span>
  <em>
    <span>relaxing</span>
  </em>
  <span>. The girl in the movie said something, and the older’s chest rumbled with quiet laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The tea was light and airy, lavender and a little sweetness, and Taeyong hummed in satisfaction. His head felt heavy. Johnny’s chest was so comfy, his arms were so plush against the smaller’s sides. He had no idea what the movie in front of his eyes was about, but it sure was pretty, and he stared at every scenic shot with awe. Johnny’s hands started to play with the leader’s sides, rubbing wide circles and mindlessly going up and down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you sleepy, </span>
  <em>
    <span>hyung</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Taeyong sipped a little more, back fully pressed against the taller’s chest. He didn’t want to leave their little bubble, but he couldn’t help but worry. “It’s okay if you go to sleep now. I’ll turn everything off later.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny made a little noise down in his throat, and kissed the crown of Taeyong’s head. “How’s your tea?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The younger smiled; of course he’d ignore the question. “It’s good.” A beat of comfortable silence, and Taeyong’s voice dropped down to a bashful whisper. “Thank you for taking care of me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A hum, and Johnny’s hand climbed up to his nape, fingers curling at the short hairs there, nails scraping softly at the skin. A shiver ran up the smaller’s spine, tingling all the way to the fingertips, and his shoulders sagged almost immediately. The feeling was close to exhilarating.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept on massaging the younger’s scalp, the pads of his fingers working tirelessly, always so gentle, eyelids hanging low and head resting on the back of the sofa. The atmosphere was filled with silent love, with affection, but most of all, with </span>
  <em>
    <span>safety</span>
  </em>
  <span>, Taeyong melting against Johnny’s body and slowly growing fuzzier, sleepier, losing the battle against consciousness every second passing. Warmth encased him, mouth tasting like lavender and unspoken confessions, and he wondered if the older would give him a good night’s kiss. What a silly thought. He rested his eyelids, breathing steady.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Gently, Johnny pried the teacup from between Taeyong’s fingers with his free hand, still lightly playing with the younger’s freshly-dyed hair, careful not to jostle him too much. Like this, he looked so small: his frame fit in the older’s lap almost too perfectly to be true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It bothered Johnny, whenever Taeyong woke up unwell or simply did not sleep, considering he needed to care for almost an army of men. He was constantly tired, high-strung and unfocused, Taeil even mentioning that at some point, the younger would be able to clip through walls (they laughed at that one). Some day, the leader would certainly fall ill because of his bad sleeping habits. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a few minutes, to make sure he really slept, Johnny turned off the TV, easily standing up with an armful of man, and trudged to the room he shared with Haechan. The youngest had scurried off to the Dream dorms, so the bed besides his was empty. In the weak light, Taeyong was nothing but long limbs and soft breathing, unconsciously making himself comfortable when Johnny placed him on his bed, taking in a lungful of the older’s scent that stuck to the pillows. He truly was adorable.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Johnny slept peacefully, knowing Taeyong had fallen asleep that night. He’d stay up as many times as needed, even every night, if it meant making the younger sleep well.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you a ton for reading, and i’d be over the moon if you left a kudo or a comment!<br/>mwah! love you all! please be safe. ♡<br/></p></blockquote></div></div>
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